


Broken Glass

by asweallfallfromgrace



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-S1E10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 08:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13337802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweallfallfromgrace/pseuds/asweallfallfromgrace
Summary: The enemy is gone, and now a semi-lucid Paul Stamets can figure out how the hell to pick up the pieces.





	Broken Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quick little fix-it fic for the nightmare that was the most recent episode of Discovery, “Despite Yourself”. Definitely contains spoilers, so be warned.

Paul Stamets may have looked catatonic to the observer, limp on a biobed with his eyes clouded over, but his mind was flying aimlessly between a thousand different parallel dimensions through the mycelial network.

Through the multidimensional fog, he suddenly felt a deep-seated sense of anxiety as his primitive body registered a terse conversation, undercurrents of volatile suspicion and anger. 

The anxiety somehow froze him, and a split second later a snapping sound echoed through the sickbay.

He suddenly felt alone, lost, as if his own very being had been shattered along with - whatever that noise was. He couldn’t bring himself to move, somehow only just mustering the ability to utter “The enemy is here.” 

And then, he knew, his warning had not been heeded. Voq had surfaced, and his love was dead, his neck broken as easily as a piece of glass.

He knew, somewhere deep in the recesses of his consciousness, that he could fix this. All he had to do was get up and find Hugh. Infinity was racing through his thoughts, though, and his limbs felt leaden.

This is the way things have to be.

Before he could drag himself off of the bed, he heard the door open, footsteps passing him, and a scream, presumably at the discovery of Culber’s body. All he could do was freeze once again.

———

His mind filtered out the details, but the general gist of what happened next was concrete: the crew thought he murdered Hugh. He could understand why - after all, at the beginning, his delirious mind managed to mistake him for a Klingon and threw him across the room. 

But restraining him in the brig, still in his patient gown, was absolutely unnecessary. How could they think he had murdered the person he loved most in the world? Besides, he had been much more lucid since Hugh had revived him for the briefest of moments. He grimaced - thinking about him was painful, even though he could see him, alive and well, in 784 other universes. 

That was not a comfort, since he knew full well that those Hughs weren’t his. 

He took a deep breath, focusing his attention on the restraining field around him. It took a second - perhaps minutes in the physical world - but eventually the field crackled and shut off. Hopefully, the sensors wouldn’t detect his escape. 

His first priority was to find Hugh’s body, which would probably be easy enough, perhaps in the morgue. Movement felt easier, somehow, almost like he was gliding along the corridors of the ship. He made a quick pit stop in their quarters to grab actual clothes, trying to suppress the emotional tidal wave that multiple dimensions of the room set off. Then, he was off. 

To his dismay, however, the morgue was completely empty, sterile and cold, overwhelming his senses and nearly knocking him to his knees. 

Once the initial shock wore off, the solution came quickly to his mind. They had launched him into space.

Paul sighed. He would have to steal an escape pod, which was far riskier and would probably alert the bridge crew to his plans. The last thing he needed was Saru and Lorca - not to mention Tyler-slash-Voq - on his trail, especially if they thought he was the one who killed Culber. 

He crept back through the corridors, doing his best to blend in with the crowd despite his strange, undead appearance. He was lucky to have the mycelium on his side - somehow, in some odd way, it seemed to mostly prevent detection, with only a few sideways glances from the more perceptive of the crew. 

He could only hope that it extended to the escape pod’s disappearance as well. 

No such luck. An alarm went off as he piloted the small craft away from the shuttle bay, breaking the spell and getting him noticed. Desperately, he mashed the controls, ignoring the hollering of the crewmen in the room. 

He wasn’t sure, but either the mycelium was far more powerful then he thought, the crewmen were afraid of being tossed across the room, or he was extremely lucky, because he was free of the Discovery before he knew it. 

His instinct guided him towards a small object, floating free in space. Fortunately, they had not launched the...coffin at a very high speed, and he was able to retrieve it easily. He was aware of the comm beeping, demands from a very pissed off Lorca no doubt, but he gave it no attention. He steeled himself as best he could, and opened the coffin. 

He felt his blood go cold at the sight of a cold, unmoving Hugh, clad in his medical whites. Even with the mycelial network to help numb, it felt like something straight out of one of his war nightmares. Except now, there was no Hugh to ease his anxiety.

His heart pounding in his ears, his vision blurring, his mind racing, he felt himself mirror his partner’s earlier kiss, tenderly shifting the cool body into his arms, tears pouring down his face as he cradled his love. 

So deep in his emotional chaos, he almost missed an odd click, followed by a loud gasp from Hugh. He pulled away, almost expecting it to be a hallucination, but his breathing had eased into a regular pattern. His eyes fluttered, then flew open.

“Paul?!” 

The sound of Hugh’s voice, even confused and raw, was like a balm to his soul, and he collapsed, exhausted, his mission complete and the mycelium taking him back once more. 

——-

He had no idea how long he’d retreated back into the network, but when his mind cleared, he found himself back in the sickbay.

“Hey there, cariño.” Hugh’s warm voice came from the chair next to him, and Paul turned his head. 

“Fashionable,” he managed to say, gesturing at the cervical collar his partner was sporting. Hugh grinned.

“Yeah, Johnson made me wear it as a precaution.” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit. Please don’t start doctoring me.” It felt so natural to start bickering with Hugh, like he hadn’t been dead and Paul hadn’t been spaced out in so many dimensions at once.

“Lucky for you, they won’t give me back my tricorder yet.” 

Paul smiled. “So you’re...okay?” It was odd feeling so hesitant, but the last month had been odd in itself. 

“Yes. I told you I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not about to break that promise.” Hugh said, laying a hand on top of Paul’s.

“So what happened? Last thing I remember clearly is promising you a trip to the opera. Everything else is just blurry bits and pieces.”

He sighed. “I’m still not happy at all with the Captain for making you do that last jump. From what I can tell, you managed to lock yourself in the mycelial network and send us into a mirror  
universe.”

“So what happened to you then?”

“Lieutenant Tyler happened. The Klingons managed to layer a new personality over his, and he got very angry when I figured it out and wouldn’t let him go on a mission with Burnham. I told Lorca everything, and he’s pissed but he’s taking care of it.”

“Wow. Remind me not to butt heads with Tyler.”

“I know. Anyway, I’ll have to let whoever’s on duty here know you’re awake.” Hugh stood up, releasing Paul’s hand. “I’d tell you to never scare me like that again, but that’d probably be rather hypocritical of me.” He laid a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Try to get some rest.”

Paul didn’t have to be told twice.


End file.
